


William Fox

by ameliaapond



Category: The X-Files, The X-Files: I Want To Believe (2008)
Genre: After IWTB, Before (?) Revival, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 22:32:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5472974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ameliaapond/pseuds/ameliaapond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When William finds his birth certificate, and discovers his middle name, a whirlwind of emotions hit him. 3 year later, when a series of strange murders happen in William's home town, the government decides to step in, the F.B.I. send their two most skilled agents to the town. Will fate bring the trio together, or keep them painfully apart?</p>
            </blockquote>





	William Fox

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to my wonderful beta Monika for sticking with me through this

William’s life was normal. He had a mother and father that loved him like no tomorrow, he had a nice house with a big back yard and a dog that was as energetic as it was old. He had friends that would do anything for him and grades that made his parents proud.

On his 11th birthday his parents sat him down to tell him about his birth parents. He always had a feeling that the Van De Kamp's weren't his mother and father, but never acted on it in fear that is may hurt their feelings. They told him how he was loved by both his parents so much and that's ultimately why they had to give him up.

William knew that his adoptive parents in fact hadn't ever met his birth parents, and would not know any of these things, but he let them believe that he understood.

His name had never been something he ever really thought about. He was flexible with his nicknames, not really caring what people called him, whether it was Will, William or even Bill. But when he was home alone, well into his 13th year, he found his birth certificate. Or rather, the altered one given to his parents in his arrival into their home. On it, it stated his names:

_"Van De Kamp, William Fox"_

He knew his parents didn’t change his names when they adopted him, they told him so, which meant that his birth mother must have picked it out for him. _“What kind of name is Fox?” _He thought to himself.__

And don’t get him wrong, he thought about it every waking moment of every day for weeks and weeks afterwards, but he never brought it up with his parents as he knew it would cause them great pain to talk about his birth parents; it would make his actual parents, the ones who raised him and clothed him and fed him, feel less like his Mom and Dad and more like extended family member or a too-eager baby sitter. He wasn’t the sort of person to start something that he didn’t intend to finish. So he decided to keep the fact to himself, and continue on with his life, as if he didn’t know of the weird middle name. 

 

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

He couldn’t drop it. 

The fact that his parents never mentioned his middle name to him bugged him to no end. It kept him up at night. Staring aimlessly out the second storey window of his bedroom, or staring at the glow in the dark space. It was from stickers that his mother had put above his bed when he was 8 years old, still illuminating in a faint, yellow glow from the bright afternoon sun and his bed side light. William felt a weird mixture of annoyance and intrigue stir in the pit of his stomach. He was irritated at himself for being so caught up on something so fickle and silly, but he was so fascinated as to the choice of such an unorthodox name next to such a mundane name as William. Which lead his mind onto a zigzag of thoughts about his birth parents _“What things do I like that they did too?” “What jobs did they have?” “What movies did they like?” _and he hated himself for it. He hated himself for being so caught up on his birth parents that he begun to shut out his actual parents. He became unresponsive and near mute at the dinner table, stopped spending time with his father on weekends, opting to sit inside, watching lifetime movies and eating sunflower seeds by the handful. Until his mother confronted him.__

“William Van De Kamp, what has gotten into you?” his mother said, turning off the television and spinning on her heel to face him.

“William Fox.” He grumbled, looking anywhere but his mother's pinched features.

“What?” She replied, the frown all but falling off her face

“William _Fox _Van De Kamp, right? That’s my middle name, isn’t it?” William said, the venom dripping off his words.__

“William, I have no idea what you are talking about!” his mother's voice was shrill, a clear sign she was lying.

“I’ve seen it Mom. I’ve seen my birth certificate. Why didn’t you tell me what my middle name was? Why did you keep it from me? If you hated my birth parents so much, why didn’t you just change my name completely?! Why did you keep this from me!” William was fuming. He threw the blanket that was resting over his legs in the floor, jumped up to look his mother in the eye.

“That is none of your business Will! Your birth parents aren’t your parents. They gave you up and now we have you. A name means nothing in the long run. I knew something had gotten into you. You were so flippant the past few weeks. You know you shouldn’t snoop.” His mother’s words were so kind and gentle, but conceited, which only fueled William’s anger.

“Like hell it isn’t my business! It’s my name! What kind of child doesn’t know their own name? What kind of parent keeps their son’s name from them! My middle name is Fox, and you never thought to tell me? Would you rather have me go through my life and find out on what, my wedding day? When I’m admitted to hospital? Christ Mom!” 

“We are not having this argument right now!”

“Yes we are!”

“Go to your room Will.”

“No.”

_“Go to your room William!” _his mothers voice boomed, ricocheting off the walls in the lounge room and rattling his bones.__

____

Will stormed out of the room, his emotions betraying him as angry tears pricked at his eyes. He stormed up the staircase and slammed his bedroom door, collapsing onto his bed. The tears would not ease up, which caused him to angrily swipe at his face any time one would fall. 

He was fuming. He was angry at his parents for keeping this from him, but more so angry at himself for not keeping his emotions in check. He was never one to be argumentative, even with the sudden plunge into young adulthood. So any disagreement with his parents hit him harder that it should. He felt betrayed by his parents, but also saw where they were coming from. 

He lay on his bed, staring at the constellations carefully placed on his roof. Before long he heard a knock on his bedroom door, before the familiar squeak if the old hinge, signaling that his door was opening. 

“Will, sweetheart, can I come in?” His mothers voice was small. He replied with a nod

Monika Van De Kamp walked tentatively over towards her son's bed. She sat down on her son's bed, and took hold of his hand.

“When your father and I first got you, you weren’t a new born, you were almost 11 months old. We were told that your mother was in a compromising position and had to give you up for adoption, almost unwillingly. And I felt for her William, I truly did. There is so much courage within a person to give up a part of themselves so that that child can grow up in a wonderful, loving safe environment. Your father and I were so cautious. We didn’t know what things you had been through when you were in her care, what long term affects she may have left on you, but when I saw you, oh, when I saw you, I fell in love. You were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen Will. Your features were so, I can’t even describe them to you, you looked like a porcelain doll. “

“when we brought you home, you wouldn’t stop staring around the room. Your eyes would never stay on a single thing for too long. You would stare at something, and giggle. Your giggle was the most amazing thing I have ever heard. But for the first few days, you wouldn’t settle. We suspected you missed your mother, which I hate to admit, made me angry. Because I was your mother, and I should be able to settle you. But after a few weeks, you got used to us, and you just grew and grew and grew. And we wanted to tell you baby, believe me, but you, _you were mine. _And I didn’t give you that name. And don’t get me wrong, I love the name William, but I couldn’t bear the thought of calling you William Fox. I’m so sorry sweetheart, but believe me, I never wanted to make you feel left in the dark. I’m so sorry Will.”__

He looked up at his mother, and saw that there were tear tracks down her cheeks. William moved down the bed and rest his head on his mother's lap.

“I love you Mom.” 

“I love you too sweetheart, so much.” She replied, her hand running through her son’s hair.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The past 4 years moved past him in a blur of schoolwork, ill fated relationships and growth spurts. The discovery and consequential fight that happened almost 2 years ago was all but a faint memory. 

With his almost-adulthood, William became more and more aware of the paranormal; much to his catholic parent’s dismay. He would spend night after night on his laptop, researching anything abnormal or ‘weird’. He never really slept, but always kept on top of his school work because he never really wanted to let his parents down. They had been through too much and had done too much for him to do that to them. 

His parents never really needed to worry about him though, he was doing well enough in school, had a small group of nice friends, and he was liked enough that people stayed out of his way. He kept off the radar and that is exactly how he wanted to keep it. His friends, Tom, Celeste and Iain were his rocks when his parents couldn't be. 

The early spring air was frigid on his uncovered face, tinging his cheeks pink as he walked briskly from his mother’s hatchback into the warm corridors of his school. As William entered the doors, he spotted his group of friends huddled around their lockers. As he got closer and closer he got snippets of their conversation over the loud, boisterous energy ricocheting of the brick walls. 

The words “dead” “suspicious circumstances” “serial killer” “gruesome” all made it to Will before he made it to the group.

“What are you guys talking about?” William asked suspiciously.

“You will never guess!” Celeste replied gleefully.

“Um, something to do with the words dead, suspicious circumstances, serial killer and gruesome?” Will countered, facetiously.

“Ha ha, you’re a damn comedian. No! Dad was called out last night, at like, 3 am to this house off Paulson Avenue, and I know this because you know how deaf dad is, his scanner is turned up to full volume, it drives Mom nuts, anyway, back to the point. While he was out, I snuck down to the basement to listen on because I’m sneaky and macabre and stuff. They found 2 mutilated bodies in the house. Like, missing fingers, eyeballs cut out and taken as trophies, Glasgow smiles, the whole nine yards. The exact same kind of mutilations like the bodies in Colorado and Michigan! So while I’m down there, dad says over the radio that he thinks that the FBI might turn up because a tiny town like us can’t handle a serial killer. Real FBI! In this little town of ours!” Celeste retorted, the last sentence being said in an overly southern accent, hands flailing wildly while describing the story, with Tom and Iain listening avidly.

Celeste was a firecracker disguised as a five-foot-nothing 14-year-old girl. Thomas and Iain were joined at the hip, and William was sure he had never seen the two apart from one another for more than a day or two. They had been best friends since grade school, a bunch of misfits that found themselves within each other. 

“You are macabre; you know that right?” William said, snorting slightly.

“Yeah, but we’re all in the exactly same boat, so it makes it okay.” Celeste replied, slinging her arm over Will’s shoulders awkwardly; he was almost a foot taller that she was. 

The warning bell rang, so they all slammed their lockers shut, and headed off to their first period class.

They were insanely lucky to have the police chief their best friend's father. They got all the gossip on what was happening in their town, all the dirty laundry they needed the fester off. 

“It could just be a copycat killer though; you know that right CeCe?” Tom lamented.

“Yeah it could, but like she said before, there are markers that are left at crime scenes that prove whether or not it’s a copycat.” Iain, retorted.

“You guys are so weird. It happened less that 24 hours ago! We can’t know anything. We shouldn’t know anything! Just wait for the FBI to come or something, that way we'll know everything that they suspect is probably solid evidence.” Will exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. He loved his friends, and he knew that they mostly meant well, but these heated debates always gave him tension headaches and almost always ended with him having to claw Celeste off either Iain or Tom after they said something callous. And he absolutely hated being the referee. 

“Whoa, okay, party pooper. I’ll just let my father know you think he's an invalid and can’t solve gruesome murders without the help of the Federal Bureau of Investigations.” Celeste huffed.

“Isn’t that how most county sheriff departments handle serial murders? Call in reinforcements?” Iain added, looking questionably over to Celeste.

“Shut up Iain. It doesn’t matter. I’ll meet up with you guys for English and we can discuss it in more detail and say its for our research paper!” Celeste stated, skipping away from the group. 

The group of boys rolled their eyes and headed off to their first period gym class. 

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Agent Fox Mulder got the call at around 5:30 am, with his phone ringing shrilly in the small hotel room. He slammed his hand on the cheap bedside table, searching blearily for the phone. He grabbed it, making the wrong choice and brought the screen up close to his face, temporarily blinding him in the process, he pressed the accept button and held it up to his ear.

“Mulder.” He said, his voice deep and scratchy due to sleep.

“Mulder it’s me.” The familiar voice reverberated around his head, imbedding itself into his brain for all of eternity.

“Scully, what are you doing up? Its 5:30 in the morning.” He sighed, getting up and moving into the bathroom. No phone call in the early hours of the morning meant good news.

“I’ve just gotten a call about a case out in Philly. Another two killings, just like the ones in Colorado and Michigan. They want us on the first plane out there, which leaves in 5 hours. You need to pack. I’ll meet you at your hotel in half an hour.” The only thing that greeted Mulder’s ears was the smooth repetition on the dial tone. 

Mulder heaved a sigh, turned on the shower and went about getting ready for Scully. At 6:15 on the dot, Scully’s car rolled up in front of his seedy hotel room. He flung the passenger door open and threw his suitcase haphazardly into the back seat. Without even looking over at him, she handed her partner and ex-lover a cup of coffee, and sped out of the driveway of the 2-star hotel and onto the bitumen.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

The rest of the school day continued without incident. They ‘researched’ as much information as they could about the murders in their small town, but as the news outlets haven’t been notified, not much was to be found. Celeste promised to interrogate her father the minute he came home from work and skype them with all the juicy, gory details. Iain and Thomas tried to uncover any hidden secrets about the deaths; well, as much as they could with the school computers and the heavily filtered internet. William tried to find anything and everything about two people who had been murdered, seeing if they had any connection to any of the others slaughtered in the suspected serial killings. All they needed was a Great Dane and they were the gory version of Mystery Incorporated. 

When the bell rang out for the end of the day, William all but flew out the door of his science room, and onto the bus home, eager to get home and research more into the crime, his early statement lost as his mind got flooded by this happening. 

He flung the door of his house open, tore off his coat, hung it on the clothes rack, and bolted up into his room. Both of his parents were at work until at least 5:30, so he had plenty of time to himself in his room to research. He booted up his computer and stared at the document him, Celeste, Iain and Thomas made during English class, when they should have been writing draft essays about the relevance of Tennessee Williams’ play A Streetcar Named Desire in today's age. The document was just a jumble of copy-and-pasted paragraphs from different websites. He stared at the pages of information and sighed. 

William stared blankly at his computer screen for a moment before the familiar chime of a Skype call rang out of his speakers. He quickly accepted and braced himself for Celeste's probable squeals. 

“They’ve sent the FBI here! Can you believe it?! Two agents from Washington that have apparently seen cases like this so many times they have lost count. I’m so excited I can’t breathe properly. Will, do you know what this means? WE COULD MEET THE FBI AGENTS, WE COULD SEE THEM WITH OUR OWN TWO, BEADY EYES! This is just too much excitement, Willy. I’m getting heart palpitations. My vision's going blurry.” Celeste practically screamed through the computer screen. Her hands waving wildly before being placed over her heart, mock concern etched on her face. Will laughed. 

“Ce, you need to calm down or you are gonna black out.” Will replied, trying to suppress his laughter. 

“What do you think they will be like? The FBI agents I mean. Dad says that all he knows is that one's a woman and the other is a man. Do you think they’re old or young? Nice or stuck up? Do you think they will let us talk to them?! Quiz them about other cases that we have looked at that they might has secret intel on? There are just so many possibilities Will!” Celeste was close to hyperventilating.

“We will just have to wait and see won’t we? You need to tell Tom and Iain. And ask your dad when he’s meeting them so we can try and sneak in a peek at them before they go to the crime scene. Celeste, you need to breathe properly otherwise you will pass out.” She took a few deep breathes before responding.

“Okay, I’ll call them too and tell them the good news, and then I’ll ask dad. It would probably be tonight; I’ll ask dad if we can come. Get your stuff ready boy, we're gonna meet some FBI agents!” She clapped her hands and then hung up the video call. 

Will grinned and began to throw things in a backpack, mentally readying himself for tonight. 

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

“Why didn’t they just send Reyes, Scully? If the FBI think it's ritualistic killings, why send us?” 

Mulder and Scully arrived at the airport, checked their baggage and got onto the plane with time to spare. The plane ride to Chicago went for around 3 hours, then a 2 ½ hour car trip to the small town of Braidwood, where the murders took place. 

“She’s busy Mulder, you know that. Anyway, they suspect that there is something, not normal about these murders. Anyway, you were the one that said you wanted to get out of Washington. To not sleep in a hotel that was older than you. From what I’ve read, Braidwood is a nice town, a nice modern town, Mulder. I’m sure we will be in and out and you can go back to sulking in your hotel room eating fast food and watching pay-for-view.” Scully retorted, taking a pretzel out of the packet and popping it into her mouth.

“Fine, okay. Tell me about these murders then.” Mulder stated, stealing a pretzel before her hand could swat his away.

“Mulder! Well, you’ve read about the other ones in Colorado and Michigan. Between 1 to 3 bodies, all disfigured. Missing fingers, tongues, toes. One body had the entire right forearm severed. Each body was given a Glasgow smile post-mortem, and all bodies' eyes were taken from the crime scene. They all had lacerations on the neck, some had their necks snapped, some were strangled. They have been going on since the start of December. The police forces from each county have come up with about nothing. That’s why we have been called in.” Scully said, whispering, looking around the plane cabin to check no one heard their obscure conversation. 

“What’s so spooky about that, Scully? It just sounds like some nut job getting his kicks mutilating dead bodies.” Mulder said, stealing another pretzel. Scully just sighed before replying.

“All off the victims are apart of some internet phenomenon. Obsessed with realistic killings in movies. Each person has been murdered the exact same way a person they have talked about on the internet was killed. Right down to their positioning in the house.”

“That’s strange, if not a little crazy, but still. People share almost everything on the internet nowdays, Scully.” 

“How is it that I’m trying to convince you that this has something, not natural to it?” Scully said, sighing outwardly.

“Okay, fine. We will go, but I bet you we will be greeted with nothing that is remotely interesting.”

How wrong he was. 

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

William’s backpack was lying at his front door, waiting for the ring of Celeste, Iain and Thomas’ bike bells, signaling they were waiting for him. Almost 20 minutes after she hung up on him, he got a text message from Celeste that simple read _“DAD SAID YES! The boys and I will meet you out the front of your house in an hour. Bring your sleuthing gear, Sherlock, we got a serial murder to solve!” _Excitement stirred at the pit of his stomach, like it always did when him and his friends were going on a ‘covert’ operation. He sat on his laptop, scrolling aimlessly through websites, before the bells dinged. He left a note for his parents when they got home, so they wouldn’t worry about where he was when they got home to find he wasn’t there.__

_Mom and Dad, ****  
Gone to the police station with Celeste and the boys. Shouldn’t be home late. Call me if you want more info. Call the Sheriff if you’re freaking out. See you later!_

_William xx_

He placed it on the kitchen island and raced out the door, locking it behind him. The sun had all but set, with its soft pink glow making everything look like it was filmed with a camera from the 80’s. but the police station was only a 10-minute ride from Will’s house, so they would make it there before the sun had disappeared completely.

“Get ready gang, we're meeting some FBI agents!” 

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

They arrived at Chicago airport at around 1:30, collected their baggage and hopped in the car that was sent for them from Braidwood’s county sheriffs department. The drive to the small town was about 4 hours, so both Scully and Mulder poured over the information that was given to them back in Washington, trying to locate anything they might have missed in their look – over on the plane.

They arrived at the Braidwood County Sheriff’s Department at around 5:30. The Sherriff, who was introduced to them as Jonathan Wayland, shook their hands and introduced them to the officers who were first at the crime scene. 

“Patterson, Luscombe, O’Reilly, this is Agent Fox Mulder and Agent Dana Scully from D.C.”

“We took some more photos, more graphic ones after the initial reports were sent to you earlier this morning during the autopsy. We thought that you would rather see them here than on the plane. We also want to try and keep the F.B.I’s involvement with the case under wraps for as long as possible. It’s a small town and people like to gossip.” Sheriff Wayland said, handing over a manila folder with several gruesome photos of the mutilated bodies. 

Mulder and Scully poured over the photos for several moments, before looking at each other and nodding. 

“Do you know anything about the victims? Were they tenants of the house? Were they linked by something other than the forum group with the other victims? Or do we have our work cut out for us?” Mulder asked, looking at one of the more disturbing photos before glancing up at the middle aged man.

Before he could answer, the front door of the police station swung open, and 4 breathless, red-faced teens ran into the room, stopping abruptly when they spotted the two crisply dressed FBI agents, with the only girl of the groups mouth breaking out into a massive grin.

“Sorry, this is my daughter Celeste, and her friends Iain, Thomas, and William.”

Scully’s heart dropped, like it always did when the name William was uttered by anyone but Mulder and her mother.

“They are kind of obsessed with stuff like this, so I hope you don’t mind if they hang around for a little while. I know it’s a little unorthodox, but I promise they won't say anything to anyone.” 

Mulder huffed while Scully’s mouth turned up into a small smile. She leant over to Mulder and whispered a stern “play nice” before going over to the teenagers to introduce herself. 

“That’s okay. I’m Dana Scully, and this is my partner, Fox Mulder.”

William’s ears perked up at the mention of the name Fox, while Iain elbowed his ribs and wiggled his eyebrows at him. 

“I’m Celeste Wayland, this is Iain Morgain, Thomas Leargman and Will Van De Kamp.” She said, pointing to the respective boys.

“And it is an absolute honor to meet you, Agent Scully and Agent Mulder.”

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

The group of teenagers were reveling in the fact that they were able to help out, Celeste especially. The adults were all crammed into one if the two interview rooms to brainstorm possible motives and probable causes, while Will, Celeste, Iain and Thomas were in the second room, huddled around a notepad, trying to help out, but willing to stay out of the way of the real work. They were all buzzing with excitement, smiles 10 miles wide plastered on their faces. They all talked quietly, every once in a while Celeste would slam her hands, palm down against the linoleum table and shout words. The boys would look at her and and burst into laughter, before going back to work. William excused himself to go to the toilet and grab something to eat from the vending machine in the small cafeteria area on the other side of the station. As he was walking through the dimly lit hallway, he bumped into Agent Mulder.

William wasn’t going to say anything to him, but curiosity got the best of him. William caught up to Agent Mulder.

“My middle name is Fox.” He said, clearing his throat and rubbing his knuckles against his pant leg.

“What kid?” Mulder looked down at him quizzically.

“Fox. My Middle name is Fox. Like your first name?” William replied, his face growing hot.

“William Fox?” The words got caught in Mulder’s throat, coming out strangled.

“Yeah, that’s what my parents called me.” He chuckled, not noticing Mulder’s pinched face.

“My adopted parents anyway.” He chuckled again, then cleared his throat.

The two fell into an awkward silence, slowly walking down the long hallway into the break room. 

Mulder cleared his throat loudly and almost whispered “William, how old are you?” 

“Um, I’m 15, 16 in September. Why?” 

Mulder sucked in a breath and tried to hide a sob. 

“No reason. William, please excuse me.” Mulder turned on his heel and almost ran into the interview room.

William was left confused at the other end of the hallway.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Mulder barreled into the first interview room, speeding over to Scully and pulling her out of her chair and towards the door. 

“Scully, I need to talk to you. Now.” His voice was urgent, almost frantic, pulling on Scully’s elbow, tugging her out the door.

“Mulder, what? Mulder, stop. What is it?” Scully instantly recognized the expression in Mulder’s face. She has seen it only a few times before. When they found out about Samantha’s fate, discovering his mother’s suicide, and when Scully left. He sucked in a ragged breath, grasped Scully by her shoulders and spoke. 

“Scully. Dana. I think I found him. I think I found William.”

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Six months later, after the serial murders case was long finished and Special Agents Scully and Mulder had long returned to D.C., William Fox Van De Kamp turned 16 years old. He woke up to his mother cooking pancakes and French toast, and to a stack of thoughtful presents from both of his parents. He arrived at school to his locker being covered in HAPPY SWEET 16TH banners and LED lights, with his friends standing next it it and laughing wickedly. When he arrived home, as usual his parents were still at work. He unlocked the front door and picked up the mail that was lying on the door mat. Bills for his parents and 3 birthday cards for himself. One from each of his grandparents, and one with an unknown return address somewhere in Virginia. 

He opened the unknown letter and read:

_Our Dear, sweet William,_

_Happy 16th birthday sweetheart._

_It pains us that we can’t be with you today, on your special day, but please understand that we love you with our entire beings, and our entire souls. You were, still are , and will always be, the center of our universe. You were a precious gift from the heavens, and we are forever grateful to have had you in our lives, even if it was for a short while._

_We love you, our precious son_

_D and F_

William stared at the card, wiping a stray tear. It had to be his birth parents. You only talk to children like that if you’re the parents of said child. Will’s heart ached painfully as his chest heaved. He walked up the stairs to his bedroom and collapsed onto his bed. 

 

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Will woke up with a jolt, realizing he must have fallen asleep. He heard the doorbell downstairs chime. He wiped the sleep out of his eyes and stared up at the glow-in-the-dark constellations and sighed. The doorbell buzzed again with some urgency so he got up, getting over his sudden bout of dizziness, and walked down the stairs rubbing at his eyes once again. He walked to the door and opened it.

“Hi Will sweetheart.”

“Hi Son.”

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you liked it! and if you want to, follow me on tumblr (ameliaapond)


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